A Mother's Vow
by Billy Bob Grint
Summary: Narcissa reacts to her son receiving the Dark Mark. A missing scene from 'Harry Potter and the HalfBlood Prince'.


She could remember days when the manor was full of life - her young son running around the corridors in different coloured robes that his parents had bought him (made from the finest material money could buy), and seizing up conversation with the ancient portraits that decorated the walls. Along with her husband, who could not cease to show the pride he had for his son, a miniature image of himself in looks and demeanour, she would follow their child, who would sometimes stop conversing with his canvas-clad ancestors and chat with his parents. He would discuss all the stories the men and women in the pictures had told him, about how one of his great-great-grandfathers had been hanging Muggles in secret, or how a great-aunt tried to start legislation in Muggle hunting, always in a fervent manner, as though every little bit of information was of the utmost importance. She remembered those days, even as they grew sparse the years her son departed for school miles away, leaving their home for months at a time and only coming to visit over the holidays.

How she longed for those days to return once more.

Narcissa Malfoy walked through the long hallways of her estate, past the quiet paintings which were obscured by the darkness surrounding them, to her son's bedroom. A few moments later, she stood before the long door, adorned by a fine oak frame carved into long serpents, and knocked raptly on it. All she heard was a faint grunt, but Narcissa took that as initiative to make her entrance.

Walking into her son's room, she was somewhat relieved to notice that nothing had changed over the years. True, the toys he had as a child were no long present, but in their place stood many dark objects that her husband, Lucius, had given to him. She could remember that in the past few years, when their son would come home for summer holidays, he would sit with Lucius on several occasions, learning spells, potions, and the type of history that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would not dare to accept as something appropriate for its students to study. Those days were lost though, along with hopes of a normal future, when Lucius was sent to the wizard prison, Azkaban, for crimes involving breaking and entering and working with the darkest wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort. Voldemort was never caught that late June evening, just weeks earlier, but enough of his followers, called Death Eaters, were, including their pack's leader, Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa still found it hard to sleep at nights in their empty bed.

She peered around the room, wondering where he son was, and spotted him staring at his reflection in his wall-high mirrors. Making her way toward him, she halted, mere feet from his stiff form, when she heard him emit a hiss as he picked at something on his arm.

"Draco, you're back," Narcissa said timidly, waiting for her son to respond. Draco either had taken no notice of his mother entering his room, or was ignoring her. Either way, it seemed as though he was far more fixated on what he was looking at than any intruders into his private chambers.

Narcissa had noticed his reaction, and made a few tentative steps closer to Draco, who was still gazing at the image in front of him. She was near enough now to look into the mirror, standing about a foot behind her son, and focused her view to the reflection of his eyes. She was surprised to see that they were glazed over; though not entirely sure it was because he was transfixed by himself or perhaps for another reason, one that Draco would rather die than admit. Moving around her son, Narcissa stood at his right side, taking her attention off of his face and looking down at his left arm, which Draco was holding almost vice-like with his right.

She could only stare in horror at the pitch-black tattoo on his left forearm.

"What do you think of it, Mother?" Draco said quietly, ignoring her terrified look. Narcissa stood there, shock paralysing every muscle in her body as she gazed at the Dark Mark branded on her son's pale skin like an animal, as though he was nothing more than livestock waiting to be butchered.

Letting out an impatient sigh, Draco asked again. "What do you think of my Mark? Father would be proud."

At the mention of Lucius, Narcissa had to close her eyes to calm herself, trying not to think of her husband and his situation at a time like this. After a few moments and having taken some direly needed deep breaths, Narcissa opened her eyes and looked at her son, who had an eyebrow raised expectantly at her. Draco looked pointedly at his scarred arm again and back at her, silently asking of her opinion of the matter.

"Did they force you, Draco? The Dark Lord - did he hurt you...?" Narcissa ask in a quavering voice. Draco's eyes hardened for a moment before looking back in the mirror again, staring almost hungrily this time at his Dark Mark.

"I wasn't hurt, Mother. I chose this - I wanted this. Father would have wanted this for me, I'm sure. I'm glad the Dark Lord chose me for... this. I won't let him down," Draco said mechanically, as though his words were already thought out for him in advance. 

Narcissa, watching her son's face, chose her next words carefully.

"Draco, did the Dark Lord speak of your father? Has he mentioned anything about Lucius or the others captured in the Department of Mysteries? Has he told you of your… his plans for you?"

Draco looked over to his mother, his eyes as ice cold as Lucius's when he was angry, and spoke through gritted teeth when he answered, "That is something you would have to ask the Dark Lord yourself, Mother."

Turning his gaze back to the mirror, Draco failed to notice the tear that streaked his mother's pale skin. He could not, though, miss when his mother grabbed his left arm, causing Draco to let out a growl in pain, and made him turn facing her. Draco's shock was nothing compared to his mother's, who was startled over the fact that she was easily able to force her grown son to face her and at the fact that she did not resort to her wand to get his attention. This time, Draco noticed his mother silently crying before him.

"Mother, you must realise that I can not repeat a word the Dark Lord has confided in me. I have to do this; I have no choice. Just understand that I'm doing this for us - for you, for me, and for Father. This is... it is justice for what happened last month in the Ministry of Magic," Draco said, gazing at his feet so as to avoid his mother's glare.

"Yes, he has informed me of such," Narcissa responded coldly. Draco looked up at his mother, startled at her tone and what she had said.

"You know…" Draco started to say but faltered when his mother nodded.

"The Dark Lord came to me personally to have a word about your father…. It is wise to say he was not pleased about it, and suggested a means to an end, so to speak. I fought relentlessly," – at this comment, Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise – "against him, but in the end, it was… the only way. I wish we had another choice – I wish Lucius was home, he could…"

Narcissa stopped mid-sentence, unable to carry on anymore for she felt her throat constricting, as though a powerful force was squeezing the very air out of her being. Draco let out a deep sigh and ran his right hand through his sleek, white-blond hair as he watched his mother deteriorate before his eyes.

"Mother, I must… I have no choice. I don't know how, but it's either that or… or death. I… I'm going to die, aren't I?" Draco whispered. Narcissa's heart ached as she saw the fear in her son's eyes, and she knew she had to save her son, by any means necessary.

Doing what any mother would do to comfort her son, Narcissa gripped Draco by his shoulders and pulled his slouched form toward her quivering one, letting out a sob as he enclosed her around the waist with his arms. Draco shook in his mother's embrace, and although she could not see his face, she could feel his warm tears soaking her expensive silk robes. She did not care, however, and ran her long fingers through her son's hair, trying to soothe him as best as she could, but Draco just held her tighter, grabbing bits of her robes in his clenched fists.

They stood as one, mother and son, in front of Draco's mirror, neither one of them sure for how long, though it did not matter. It was only when Draco had loosened his grip and slowly began to move from her that Narcissa became aware of her surroundings. She looked over at Draco, who had turned his face away from her, probably to wipe off tears he was embarrassed over, and took the opportunity to look around her son's room once more.

Behind Draco stood a shelf full of old tomes Lucius and several others had given him as presents on holidays and birthdays. She could remember one time when Severus had come to give Draco a set of potions' texts the summer before he was to begin school at Hogwarts. A sudden realisation hit Narcissa, and she gasped, getting the attention of her son, who was looking at her inquisitively.

"What is it?"

"I know who can help you, Draco," Narcissa whispered excitedly.

"Who can help me kill Dumbledore, Mother?" Draco said in a drained voice.

Narcissa looked into her son's eyes, ignoring his scepticism, and slowly said, "It's about time I visited your dear Professor Snape." 


End file.
